


Love Me Thrice

by plumtrees



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Choking, Clones, Dirty Talk, Gangbang, I Don't Even Have an Excuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Self-cest, Yeah you read that right, just a lil bit, oikawa is a thirsty ass mofo, there are like 3 oikawas, this is mostly just unapologetic smut tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8557135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: The point here is: Oikawa has seen enough in his time in Seijou that he thinks he’s well past the point of being surprised. He holds this thought proudly. 
  That is until one day, on what should have been a normal Friday afternoon, reality comes along to smack him upside the chin with this particular visual:
  Iwaizumi is sandwiched between two Oikawas, groaning and writhing as the Oikawa from behind reaches between his legs, long fingers digging into his inner thighs, easing them open for the Oikawa in front to slide closer, press their hips tighter together. The moan that Iwaizumi releases at this sends blood rushing south, leaving very little left for Oikawa’s poor brain to process the situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say other than happy 11/14 day
> 
> There are 3 Oikawas just suspend your judgement about _why the fuck that is_ bc I have no answers for you either OwO pls don't take this too seriously
> 
> my tags are a mess forgive me it's 4AM

Oikawa has opened the clubroom doors enough times to have a pretty solid list of things to expect when that white door swings inward. At the top of that list is his teammates changing. A close second is his teammates fooling around, chasing and smacking each other with towels as only high school students with the mental maturity of five-year-olds are won’t to do.

There are plenty of things on the bottom of the list; things he’s only ever encountered once and hopes to never encounter again: Hanamaki with his hands down Matsukawa’s shorts ( _It’s not what it looks like!_ they had screamed to Oikawa’s hastily retreating back, and _wow_ Oikawa really didn’t want to know); Yahaba smirking as he held the loop of a leash with Kyoutani clipped to the other end of it, black dog ears atop his head and a look in his eyes that promised murder; Iwaizumi all tangled in the tattered volleyball net, his shirt riding all the way up to expose his nipples, staring at him beseechingly, lips parting to gasp _Oikawa, please_ , more sultry and breathless than any cry for help deserved to be—

Oh, wait, no. That last one was a dream. For sure.

The point here is: Oikawa has seen enough in his time in Seijou that he thinks he’s well past the point of being surprised. He holds this thought proudly. 

That is until one day, on what should have been a normal Friday afternoon, reality comes along to smack him upside the chin with this particular visual:

Iwaizumi is sandwiched between two Oikawas, groaning and writhing as the Oikawa from behind reaches between his legs, long fingers digging into his inner thighs, easing them open for the Oikawa in front to slide closer, press their hips tighter together. The moan that Iwaizumi releases at this sends blood rushing south, leaving very little left for Oikawa’s poor brain to process the situation.

He swallows. Then Iwaizumi moans and his mouth is drier than a desert all over again. 

“Uhh…” he tries, voice embarrassingly crackly. Surely these are aliens. There’s no other explanation. They abducted him in his sleep and cloned him and now there are a dozen Oikawa Toorus running around Japan causing havoc. Oh god, if his luck is to be trusted, one of them is probably at Shiratorizawa, pledging his undying loyalty to Ushiwaka—

He doesn’t have time to nurse his theory any further. At the sound of his voice, the three look up. Iwaizumi blinks. He’s blushed red, lips swollen and slick with spit and parted to reveal a fiendishly delighted grin. 

“Huh,” he mutters, licking his lips. “Not exactly sure about how this is gonna work, logistically.”

The Oikawa in front (dammit, if this is going to continue Oikawa needs a better way to differentiate these clones) coos, leaning close to nuzzle his cheek. “Oh, Iwa-chan, how naïve.”

The Oikawa behind (henceforth known as Tooru) smirks and lifts his hands up to Iwaizumi’s abdomen, sweeping over the expanse of his stomach. “If you want, we’ll show you _exactly_ what you can do with three of us.”

Iwaizumi purrs. Honest to god _purrs_ and sinks docilely into their touch. Oikawa in front (henceforth known as Kawa, because Oikawa is fresh out of ideas and frankly his brain isn’t exactly at full capacity right now) tilts his head just enough to kiss Iwaizumi’s cheek, moving lower until he reaches his neck.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi whines, hips moving back sinfully against Tooru as his hand cups the back of Kawa’s head. “C’mere.”

The sounds that float in the air is hint enough that Kawa’s sucking on that spot at the corner of Iwaizumi’s jaw, one Oikawa knows to be superbly ticklish. Iwaizumi flinches, instinctively curls up to close off that area, but Kawa grabs for his nape, pulling him forward and pushing his face in deeper to meet him. Iwaizumi’s whines are delicious, low and raspy, pitching high whenever there’s a flash of teeth. Oikawa’s eyes flit to Tooru, who’s staring at him, eyes narrowed in smug challenge, hands possessively crawling beneath Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“You just gonna watch?” Tooru hums, tongue darting out to lick over the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear, kissing his temple when he throws his head back to rest on his shoulder. Oikawa can see the silhouette of his hands under the uniform, cupping Iwaizumi’s pecs, fingers swiping back and forth until his nipples peak beneath the polo.

“More for us then.” Kawa chimes in, sitting back on his haunches. Oikawa can already see the bruise welling on Iwaizumi’s neck and something hot burns in the pit of his stomach.

He stomps across the room, kicks the door shut behind him and reaches back just long enough to lock it, grabs Iwaizumi by the wrist and tugs hard enough to pull him out from between the two, triggering a duet of protests.

“Wow. Not even going to share?” Kawa growls, lip curling back threateningly.

“We were here first, you know.” Tooru pouts, and Oikawa’s pretty sure the aliens must’ve botched up this clone bad because he pouts like his lip’s been stung by a hornet and dammit Oikawa does _not_ look like that when he pouts.

Beside him, Iwaizumi only groans and flops back to the floor, catching the attention of all three. “Can you all fight later? I really fucking need to come _right now_ and I don’t care which one of you does it or how many.”

Whatever heroic speech Oikawa had lined up for this moment suddenly shrivels in his throat. Iwaizumi’s hot to the touch, gleaming with sweat, pupils blown wide. His clothes (or at least, whatever of it that’s still doing its job) are a mess. His cock is pitching an obvious tent in his pants, and Oikawa can only watch as Iwaizumi pops his trouser button open, the hiss of the zipper causing the last of his brain cells to wave a giant white flag in unified surrender.

Before he knows it, he’s pulling the pants off, hooking his fingers in far enough to take Iwaizumi’s boxers with it. Another set of hands is ripping away his top, buttons clattering to the floor, and just like that, Iwaizumi’s exposed to them, his cock slick and leaking between his legs, standing proud even as he fruitlessly presses his legs together in a bid for modesty. 

“Aren’t you enjoying this a little too much, Iwa-chan?” 

Oikawa looks up in time to see Tooru crawl forward, mouthing Iwaizumi’s jaw. Oikawa growls in warning, but Iwaizumi has no such reservations, tilting his head to meet Tooru in a heated kiss, their mouths wide open as their tongues danced and tangled between them.

He wants to be jealous. His mind is telling him to be. But all his body can comprehend is how fucking _hot_ it is: the sight of Iwaizumi tilting his head back as Oikawa’s clone crowds into his space, their tongues sliding across each other’s, Iwaizumi’s teeth peeking out from beneath his lips to scrape over Tooru’s tongue. 

It’s lewdly exhibitionistic but Oikawa can’t deny how good he and Iwaizumi look together. He cups himself and squeezes, trying to calm his raging hard-on before he comes in his pants like a thirteen-year-old.

Kawa sneaks in from behind him, hand slithering up Iwaizumi’s leg, fingers crooking like spider legs. Iwaizumi shivers beneath his touch but obeys easily when Kawa pries his legs apart. He leans in close to kiss the tempting jut of his hipbone, tongue peeking out to trace the cuts of his muscles, dipping into his navel.

The noises spilling from Iwaizumi’s mouth are making him lightheaded. He’d never actually thought he’d get to hear them outside his dreams, but here they are, and god none of his wildest fantasies can ever hope to compare. Oikawa wastes no time, sinking down to lick a thick stripe along Iwaizumi’s cock. He moans and his thighs tighten instinctively around Oikawa but Kawa’s hands hold him open again, allowing Oikawa to rise back up and suckle on the head.

Iwaizumi gasps, back arching right up off the floor, but Tooru forces him down, his hand heavy and commanding on Iwaizumi’s sternum.

“That’s two mouths on you, Iwa-chan,” Tooru taunts, hoarse and sickeningly sweet, “but I bet that’s still not enough for you, isn’t it? You greedy little _slut_.”

There is a sharp _smack_ , the hairs on the top of Oikawa’s head parting against the sudden whip of wind. Iwaizumi yelps and Oikawa grabs his hips to keep him from thrusting all the way in, and when Oikawa looks up, the mound of flesh above Iwaizumi’s groin is a pretty, stinging red. Tooru laughs, the low timbre of his voice going straight to Oikawa’s cock and _goddamn_ what brand of narcissism does he have for actually being aroused at the sound of his own voice?

He tries not to think about it too much, focuses his efforts on Iwaizumi, on making him feel good. His cock is swollen and twitching. Oikawa feels a pang of sympathy and slides him back into his mouth, letting the smooth head drag over the insides of his cheeks, tongue tracing along the pulsing veins.

“Does that feel good, Iwa-chan?” One of them asks, and Iwaizumi moans a muffled affirmative, writhing under Oikawa’s hands. He sinks lower, lower until the head grazes the back of his throat, even _lower_ , until his nose is pressed against the sparse hairs at the base of Iwaizumi’s cock. Dimly, he feels a hand close over the top of his head, tangling into his hair. He angles his gaze up to see Iwaizumi whimpering into Tooru’s kiss, Kawa thumbing over a nipple while he sucks on the other. He can’t see much of Iwaizumi from where he is but he looks _gorgerous_ , all bronzed skin tinged red with arousal, trembling beneath their hands like he’s pumped full of adrenaline. Kawa lets up and the sight of Iwaizumi kissing Tooru wakes that heat in his belly tenfold. He lifts up with a long, hard suck and Iwaizumi kicks out, head snapping back and moaning loud and high, hands curving into claws and scraping uselessly over the smooth floor.

Tooru chuckles. Oikawa blinks at the sight of him with his pants open, pumping his cock, hand sliding up and down the shaft to spread the slick of his precome over it. Iwaizumi’s breathing hard, but he eyes the display hungrily, mouth immediately opening in invitation when Tooru shuffles close, tracing the head over his lips.

“He’s drooling for it.” Kawa giggles, large hand sliding down Iwaizumi’s torso until he cradles the base of his cock between two fingers, squeezing and kneading until Iwaizumi keens softly. Oikawa lets him slip out of his mouth with a parting lick at the head, swiping off the pearl building at the slit. Iwaizumi’s darting his tongue out, licking futilely at the side of Tooru’s dick. Tooru has a hand on his neck, keeping his head flat on the floor, giving him only what he sees fit to give.

“Do you want my cock in your mouth, Iwa-chan? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Yes.” Iwaizumi croaks. Oikawa whines at the sound of it, knows that he’ll probably jerk himself off to that sound for the rest of his life.

“Use your words, Iwa-chan.” Kawa croons, fingertips massaging over Iwaizumi’s balls. Oikawa immediately pushes down on his hips again, swallowing thickly when Iwaizumi whines in protest.

“Please,” Iwaizumi gasps, and Tooru must be bearing down on his windpipe because it comes out breathless and broken. “Please fuck my mouth.”

Tooru smirks, the light playing over his face like some sinister cliché. “Open up, sweetheart.” He whispers, and Iwaizumi complies, opening his mouth wide and eager and Oikawa goes weak at the sight of Iwaizumi taking his dick, lifting his head up as soon as Tooru’s grip lets up to get more of it down his throat, hand reaching up to cup behind Tooru’s thigh and pulling him in, fucking his throat deeper on his cock.

 _God, he’s not even choking on it._ Oikawa watches his copy thrust his hips forward, clench his fists in Iwaizumi’s hair.

“If you’re just gonna watch—” Tooru hisses, and Oikawa snaps back into coherence. Tooru’s smirking at both of them, hands sliding all over Iwaizumi’s hair like he owns him, like Iwaizumi is his alone and they’re just there for the ride.

He snarls the same time Kawa does, and he revives his grip on Iwaizumi’s hips, manhandling him until his crotch is flush against that firm ass, the very same one that has haunted his fantasies all these years, now finally solid and wanting against his aching cock. He wrestles with his clothes only long enough to free himself, his erection long and curved and a perfect replica of the one fucking Iwaizumi’s mouth.

It’s slick with precome but not nearly enough for proper lubrication. He curses, but then something hits his chest, falls to the floor when he fails to catch it on the way down. A condom. He picks it up and snorts at the _LUBRICATED_ printed on the center of the foil square, nodding in begrudging thanks at Kawa, who only winks at him.

He carefully tears the packaging open, slipping out the latex disc and rolling it over his cock, hissing at the feel of it against his burning skin. He picks up the packet and smears the excess lubricant on his fingers. Iwaizumi’s breath hitches at the first touch against his entrance. Kawa’s massaging over his perineum, small circles gentle enough to tease, other hand squeezing at the base of his cock to keep him on the edge. He slips a finger in and Tooru pulls Iwaizumi’s head back, letting him gasp in a breath. Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi’s pulse throbbing beneath his skin, his walls constricting in time with it. He turns dazed eyes up at them, lips and chin shining with spit.

“He’s going to open you up.” Tooru growls, hand tightening in Iwaizumi’s hair until his eyes are watering and trembling in their sockets. “He’s going to finger you open until you’re loose enough to take his cock. And while he’s fucking you down there I’m going to fuck your mouth until I come down your throat.”

Kawa smirks, leans in close enough to kiss Iwaizumi’s slack mouth, tongue invading and sweeping all across the caverns of his mouth. Oikawa wonders if he’s tasting himself, what it would be like. He licks his lips and slips his finger down to the knuckle, teasing the pad of his index finger against the rim in warning, pushes it in beside his middle finger when Iwaizumi doesn’t tense.

Kawa pulls back, kissing gently down Iwaizumi’s neck, chest, suckling his abused nipples. Iwaizumi’s eyes lift past him, up to meet Oikawa’s gaze for probably the first time since this started, and Oikawa’s throat goes dry. Iwaizumi looks dazed, fucked-out, _hungry_. His eyes are glowing and expectant and the words are pouring out of Oikawa’s mouth before he even knows it.

“You feel so good, Iwa-chan.” he whispers, tentatively, watching carefully for the slightest shift in Iwaizumi’s expression. “So good around my fingers. Can’t wait to see how you’ll feel around my cock.”

Iwaizumi’s lashes flutter briefly, but Oikawa knows he did well because Iwaizumi’s tightening even more around his fingers. His Adam’s apple bobs and suddenly he’s lifting himself up, angling his face just so, and Oikawa knows instantly what he wants. He pulls his fingers out, surges forward, shoving Kawa out of the way to meet Iwaizumi for their first kiss.

He tastes bitter and musky, lips and tongue sticky against Oikawa’s. He tastes like sex and heat and nothing at all like anyone Oikawa’s ever kissed before and _god_ he’s perfect.

He draws back, puckers his lips for a gentler, chaste little peck. Iwaizumi giggles and Oikawa can’t help but fuss over how cute it sounds, the wrecked hoarseness of his voice notwithstanding. He lies back—smiling, relaxed, willing—and whimpers when Oikawa lines his cock up over his hole.

He’s sinking in, slow and deep, until his balls press against Iwaizumi’s ass. Iwaizumi gasps, moans and writhes the whole time but Tooru leans back in, lips dragging over the chiseled edge of his jaw, soft and comforting. Kawa soothes a hand over his cock, tugging him back to full hardness as Oikawa waits for him to adjust, gritting his teeth at the feel of Iwaizumi’s walls fluttering around him, his tempting heat embracing his cock.

“Move.” Iwaizumi finally, _finally_ hisses, and it’s like a call from god himself. Oikawa is only too eager to obey, hips snapping forward after each slow outward drag. Iwaizumi whimpers, moans cresting in volume as Oikawa’s hips smack against his ass. 

“God, Oikawa, _ah_! Fuck me.” Iwaizumi whines, heels dragging over the floor, head whipping left and right. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Oikawa complies. He complies because _god_ who can ever deny Iwaizumi when he’s like this, shameless and open but still refusing to completely relinquish control.

“You’re taking my cock so well, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breathes, hands tightening around Iwaizumi’s hips, digging so hard he’s sure they’ll bruise, “I knew you would. It’s like you’re made to take my cock. Look at you.”

Tooru smirks—that devilish, conniving curl of his lips that gets even _Oikawa_ warm in all the right places—and cups a hand beneath Iwaizumi’s head, coaxing him back up onto his cock. Iwaizumi’s jaw falls slack as he enters, the pornographic bulge of his cheek making Oikawa’s cock twitch inside him.

He lets Iwaizumi settle on a rhythm, pushing into him the same time he swallows down Tooru’s cock. From the corner of his vision he sees Kawa guide Iwaizumi’s hand onto his own erection, throwing his head back as he fucks into his fist.

With Tooru’s cock in his mouth, Iwaizumi’s moans are muffled, but that in itself offers a fresh kind of thrill: the idea that this is exactly how he’ll sound if it was Oikawa’s cock down his throat. The thought sends his hips slamming forward, harder, faster. Tooru grabs Iwaizumi by the neck and pulls him forward. His eyes roll back and his ass tightens around Oikawa, ripping a choked moan from his lips.

It’s too much. He’s surprised he even managed to last this long, when he’s been aching to have Iwaizumi like this for _years_. The sight of him, his clones, fucking Iwaizumi, both of his holes stuffed full with his cock, Iwaizumi’s hand curled around his dick and jerking him off expertly, wrist twisting at the end just the way he likes it. It’s too much. Too perfect. Suddenly, Tooru’s moaning, throwing his head back, veins popping over his arms as his grip tightens over Iwaizumi’s head. He whines, but Oikawa can see his throat working around something, swallowing rapidly, and when it finally hits him, he clenches his jaw around a moan and spills into the condom as he thrusts out the last of his pent-up energy—

His rhythm stutters, hips mindlessly rutting forward as he finally loses steam. He looks down in time to see Kawa come all over Iwaizumi’s chest, white stark against the bruised and bitten landscape of his torso. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as Kawa eases his grip a little, shifts so that his fingers aren’t squeezing the base, finally willing to let him finish.

When Iwaizumi comes, it’s with a wild buck of his hips, his back arching up so steep that Oikawa fears he’ll break right in half. A spurt of come stripes over his abdomen, reaching right up to his cheek. Twice. Thrice, he squirts, until it slows to a trickle, his spent cock falling limp over his stomach. He breathes in tight little gasps, hands absently swiping over his front, feeling up the obscene, abstract mess they made on him.

“Fuck.” he groans, voice wrecked beyond belief. Kawa chuckles, reaching down for a slow, gentle kiss. It’s amazingly chaste and innocent, and Oikawa watches them, an unidentifiable sting in his chest as he watches Iwaizumi soften in the arms of his clone, still not entirely sure if jealously is valid considering it’s _him_ and yet it’s not.

He nearly jumps when lips brush against his cheek, when a hand cups his limp cock. He looks and it’s Tooru, smiling radiantly at him, nuzzling his cheek as he gently eases the condom up and off. He sits there, frozen, not quite sure how to proceed or reciprocate, but Tooru’s doing all the work for him, kissing around the shell of his ear, tongue occasionally peeking out to trace the lobe and Oikawa shivers at the feel of it. He knows how sensitive it is, knows how much he loved it when old partners teased his ear during makeouts, during foreplay. He figures it’s not so farfetched that no other person would know how to stimulate his erogenous zones better than he himself can. It’s just he never actually expected to prove the theory right.

Tooru suddenly pulls back, and Oikawa’s eyes slip open, turning to his clone with an indignant pout. He’s smiling, smug and playful and when he quirks his head slightly to the side, Oikawa suddenly sees Iwaizumi and Kawa, watching, eyes glowing with interest, a muted hunger. A knuckle gently hooks beneath his jaw, angling him back to face Tooru, and he swallows at the sight of him: eyes blazing, determined and daring.

Tooru leans in, the heat of his breath fanning against Oikawa’s lips. He closes his eyes, pushes himself forward—

 

-

 

“Oikawa, dammit, wake up!”

Oikawa awakes with an embarrassingly unattractive snort, head snapping left and right in a rude-awakening-induced panic. Iwaizumi’s standing over him, hands curled around a volleyball that he’s sure would have been hurled at his head if he hadn’t woken up right then. He blinks, trying to get his bearings. He was pulled out of practice early. Something about not enough sleep. Rest in the clubroom. He looks just past Iwaizumi and the sun is no longer peeking out from the window, instead replaced by the artificial yellow of streetlamps.

“Practice…” he tries, winces at the dryness of his throat, “Is it over?”

“Like an hour ago.” Iwaizumi huffs, tossing the volleyball into the corner where all the broken equipment is quickly piling up. “I was waiting for you to wake up on your own, but your mom called. She wants you home asap.”

Oikawa groans, getting up and dusting himself off. The mat had at least spared him from sleeping on the floor, but the foam was thin and worn out, not exactly the most comfortable thing ever. He stretches out, groaning when joints pop satisfyingly.

“Did you have a good dream?”

He blinks, turning a confused glance to Iwaizumi mid-stretch. Iwaizumi’s looking away, the tips of his ears oddly red. “You were making all these sounds in your sleep.”

Oikawa frowns, puts a finger up to his chin. Iwaizumi looks expectant for some reason, and it makes Oikawa put in a little more effort, trying to remember what it is his brain cooked up in his sleep. He tries and tries a little harder, but the more he thinks about it, the more the dream slips out of his grasp. He sees vague images of Iwaizumi, but that’s nothing too specific. He knows he dreams about Iwaizumi a lot.

“I remember Iwa-chan was there.” Oikawa shrugs weakly. “But other than that, nothing much.” He looks at Iwaizumi and his brows are furrowed, clearly disgruntled. “Why, Iwa-chan, did I say something weird?”

“Nevermind.” Iwaizumi grumbles, and Oikawa blinks, even more confused now as Iwaizumi stomps out without him, mumbling something about _Stupidkawa_ as he goes.

“Hey! I heard that, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa chases after him indignantly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and locking the clubroom door behind him.

Geez, what got Iwaizumi so moody?

**Author's Note:**

> [I BELONG IN THE TRASH](http://plumtreeforest.tumblr.com)~


End file.
